To This Day
by WhyNotDream
Summary: It's the 100th Hunger Games, and the tributes will be chosen by Capitol citizens. In addition to this, there is neither escorts, nor is there mentors. Inspired by My-Stars-Shine-Darkly-Over-Me, but it's slightly different.
1. The Reapings

**Hello readers. This is my first story on FanFiction, and I am looking forward to writing on this site.**  
**Please no criticism, unless it is to help me. Thank you.**  
**Since this Hunger Games is the 100th, obviously the rebellion never happened. **  
**Yes, this story is inspired by My-Stars-Shine-Darkly-Above-Me. I understand that this twist for the Quarter Quell is not an original idea by her, but I still would like to give her credit. Also, Scout (one of my main characters) is slightly like the character Aurora in her story.**  
**I do not own the any rights to the Hunger Games series, but the characters in this story are all mine.**

**Scout Woods (15) District 6**

A lot of people say that I'm insane.  
I can't exactly argue. The only thing that could lead to a quarrel would be that I am only slightly insane. Although, it's getting worse. I don't know exactly what to call it, because it's not exactly a thing. I suppose you could say it was a mental illness, but I don't look at it in that light. I don't really see it in any light, though. I just know I have it, that it's there, but I never bother to do anything about. I don't waste my time thinking about something that I can't change.  
All of these things go through my head during the most dreadful 6 hours of my day; a.k.a. school. I'm sitting through one of my least favorite classes, and listening to my least favorite teacher.  
I know kids feel aversion toward their teachers, but my dislike for this particular teacher is different. This teacher, Ms. Ford, loathes me. It's not the ordinary kids hate teacher for no reason, because I actually do have a reason. That reason being: she hates me back.  
I don't know when it started, or why, but there has always been this feud between us. Whenever I do anything, even the littlest thing, she gives me detention. It's like she is trying to make my life at school even worse than it already is.  
I'm not necessarily rude to her, but I suppose you could say I irritate her from time to time. It's not that often, but every once in a while, I enjoy doing something to set her off. It's usually not all that terrible—or rude, for the matter—but I still feel a conclusion of joy when I see her snap.  
I have been half-listening to the conversation she is having with the class. I don't exactly know what about life they are talking about, but I've heard the word 'life' enough times to know that's what the discussion had turned to.  
Someone behind me kicks my chair, and I turn to see who it is. I glance at the person, a girl with brown hair and freckles, but I do not recognize her. I raise my eyebrow, marveling what she kicked my chair for. She stares at me, then at something behind me, and then back to me.  
Taking this as a sign, I turn around to see Ms. Ford. Her arms are folded, and she is looking at me with an angry expression. Then again, that might just be her normal look.  
"I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" I ask.  
"Scout, why don't you explain life for us?" She asks, an amused look taking over her angry one.  
I do not see why she is so amused by messing with a 15 year old. It baffles me, how much joy comes out of it for her. Then again, I'm not so different.  
I sigh, knowing that I'll have to answer the question or I'll get detention again. It's not like I have anything to do later, but I would rather do nothing than spend my time with her in detention.  
"I don't see any reason to complicate life. All you must do is breathe, eat, drink, and sleep. From when your born to the age of 18 years, most of what you do is decided by your parents. Of course, you still make thousands of decisions every day, but they don't matter, they don't affect anything. Eventually, you die. Everyone is going to end up dead one day; we can't live forever. There is no such thing as immortality." I answer, not putting much effort in it.  
In response she tells me, "Unless you do something very momentous. Then, people will remember your name forever."  
"Do you not know what the definition of immortality is? It's to live forever; not to live on forever. There's a disparity, you know."  
"I don't see any difference, Scout."  
"That's why you ended up as a teacher." This last thing I mutter to myself, and can only pray that she doesn't hear. I cringe as she storms away, and I wonder if she'll announce my detention to the entire class.  
Instead of doing this, she continues on the discussion and I breathe out. I am more grateful then I should be, but I don't mind. I am just so relieved that I don't have detention before the 'Reaping'.  
You see, it's not technically a Reaping, because the tributes aren't being 'reaped'. They are chosen by the Capitol this year. I don't know if this gives me a better chance or not, and I ponder the possibilities of how they selected the tributes. They must have read through bios of all of them, to see what they are like. Surely the Career districts will have violent, dangerous Careers. The other districts might have weak tributes, or strong, I don't know how they would choose.  
The 'Reaping' is also peculiar because it's in the afternoon, where it is usually in the mid-morning. The only bit of happiness I see about this 'Reaping' is that it will be shorter, due to the lack of escort rambling, since there will be no escorts. I also heard that there wouldn't be a Dark Days video this year. If that's true, this will be the best 'Reaping' I've attended.  
When the bell rings, I leave the class, walking briskly to my locker and putting everything away. There was no homework today, since two people were going to go into the Games. The teachers usually went easy on the kids for the entire Hunger Games, especially when our tributes die. It's horribly sad to see them go, but the most depressing part of it all is that I never knew those kids. I never said a word to them in my life. Yet, I miss them terribly when they die and feel sympathy for their families.  
Perhaps, someone from District 6 will win this year. That would presumably be the biggest upset for the Capitol citizens. I know they abhor it when tributes who aren't Careers win. That is, unless that particular tribute has something about them the Capitol likes. That is a very small list that probably includes the following attributes: bloodthirsty, mad, lovely, humorous, or just plain likable.  
Though, it is arduous for any tributes besides Careers to be fancied when the only tributes they show on TV during the Hunger Games are Careers.  
I tread back home, walking through the streets, and avoiding other people. The air is cordial, though it's the middle of fall. The leaves have already changed their colors, and lay in piles on the side of the street. I watch a few little kids playing in them, tossing them in the air or jumping into the piles. I observe their smiles, and the happy glint in their bright eyes, and wonder if I ever looked like that as a kid.  
As I reach my house—a shed, more like it—I open the door and head to my room. I smell something burning, and guess that my father is trying to cook something special for the 'Reaping'. I keep listening until he begins to swear, and then my mother starts to shout at him. I try to block the noise out of my mind and nimbly get dressed.  
I change into a blood-red skirt, an ivory tank top, and white flats. I grasp a comb and brush out my white, wavy hair. I brush it out all the way to my mid-back, which is where it ends. I don't bother doing anything else to make me look dainty. It's only a Reaping.  
Well, a 'Reaping', but same difference.  
I then tie a red bandana around my left wrist, which contains scars from when I wanted to end it. It has been a few months since the last time, and the scars are white, but my parents coerce me to hide them. They are ashamed of them—or me; I haven't quite figured it out yet.  
**(A/N: The paragraph above is inspired by My-Stars-Shine-Darkly-Above-Me, and Scout's suicidal action and/or personality is inspired by one of My-Stars-Shine-Darkly-Above-Me's characters named Aurora. This action/personality will become a bigger part of the story as it progresses. I understand that this doesn't show up much in this chapter, but if you read carefully, you may find some places where it is talked about or referring to without actually saying the word.)**  
I walk out of my room and sit at our dining table. My parents stop quarreling when I enter the room, and I am pleased. They usually wouldn't stop fighting, but I guess they have decided to since there's a 'Reaping.  
I have never understood why people make such a big deal of the Reapings. The tributes are just chosen, they aren't deceased yet. I understand that they leave, and I know that it's sad, but that's no reason to make a big deal about it, before it's even happened.  
My father hands me a burnt cookie, and, although it's doesn't look appetizing, I eat it. I must. He would be mad if I didn't, and hurt. I can't make either of my parents feel like that, they're lives are already awful.  
"Scout, dear, I'm so sorry, but neither of us will be able to attend the Reaping." My mother tells me, giving me a woeful smile.  
This does not astonish me, and after assuring them it's fine, they leave the frigid house. I gaze at the clock, and see that it's about time for me to leave as well, but I don't leave, not yet. I sit there, enjoying my loneliness. I don't know how long I sit for, it could have been a few minutes or a few hours, but I decide to leave. I only leave because the loneliness has turned from being nice, to threatening and depressing.  
I stride to the door and leave, my green-grey eyes scanning the area that which I live. I always do this before a Reaping. I want to have a good vision of the space I grew up in just in case I end up being reaped, because that meant certain death.  
I walk to the center of the district, get my finger pricked, and then wait in the 15 year old section. The sun is still aloft, but it is slowly setting. The temperature has become fervent, and I envy the other kids standing around me. My pale skin burns ever so easily, and I do not wish to have a sunburn tomorrow.  
Not that I care much about my appearance, but I perfectly hate having pale skin and hair. For one, I don't know any teenager who has white hair like me, it's just impractical. And two, its even worse with pale skin, because then it's white on white. It looks scary, like I'm a ghost of something worse. I stand out in the darkness, which should be most embarrassing, though, I don't feel it.  
Our mayor stands on the stage and starts rambling. I don't pay much attention to him until a silver envelope is given to him. Curious, I watch as he opens it and clears his throat. I now understand that whatever was in the envelope must say the tributes names for this year.  
"The female tribute for this year—chosen for her cleverness and interesting personality—is Scout Woods." The mayor says, clearly not happy about announcing the poor tributes' names.  
I realize that he just called my name, but I do not move. It's not because I am scared, or embarrassed, or concerned. Honestly, I don't feel any of those emotions right now, not even anything like it. The only thing I am feeling is surprise. I have never been so surprised in my life. And, I do not understand why they picked me, though cleverness is obviously not the real reason.  
Do they know? Do they know that I am slowly going insane? Does it amuse them? To see a poor, innocent, crazy girl go into the arena? Will they enjoy my death? Will it be the highlight of the Games? Will anyone miss me? Will people care? Will they know who I am?  
This all goes through my head as I walk up and onto the stage. No emotion whatsoever is showing on my face—or, at least, I hope there isn't any emotion there. I shake the mayor's hand and stand in front of my District. It is obvious that none of them know who I am; the confusion is carven onto their features. However, all of them look upset. They know, just as well as I, that I am never coming back. They understand that I'm going to die, and that saddens them, just like it did for me all those years. And in this split second, reality escapes me, and I truly believe that none of us are that different. No one, not a single person in this entire world. We are all the same underneath, we are all just skeletons. We are all just humans set out into this world, trying to fit in. All of us. Because what can be 'in' if no one is?  
So nothing is ever right or wrong. Nothing is ever good or bad. No, in this world we live in, there is just horrible and okay. There is nothing in between; there is nothing worse, or nothing better. We're all just on a journey in our life which only half of us find worth living. Because how can you want to live, if you're going to die anyway? What is the point? What is the point of this all? Nothing.  
And this is when I realize that I have not only accepted the fact that I am going to die in these Games, but I welcome it. Because, I just can't find a reason to live anymore.  
The boy who will be my district partner is already on the stage, his hand outstretched for me to shake. I take it and shake, squeezing his hand, for he looks even younger than I. I didn't catch his name, but I will learn it. He looks so sad, and it makes me sad just looking at him, but I don't dare show it.  
We are escorted by Peacekeepers into the Justice Building, where we are separated and put into different rooms. I sit and wait for what seems like forever, but no one comes. This is probably the saddest thing that has happened to me in my life. My parents haven't even come to wish me luck and say goodbye. It's not at have any friends, but I would expect my own family to come.  
I guess I'm not as important to them as I thought.  
At this point, I realize I have no token. It makes me sad, and I scramble around the room, looking for something—anything—that could resemble something. I just want a token, just to have one. I need something to connect me with my district while I'm in the arena. I understand that my time in the arena will not be long, but I still want to have a reminder of my life.  
I sit down and place my arms in my lap, thinking. I don't stop looking around the room until a thought occurs to me. The bandana, I think, and look down at my arm. The bandana is red and I know it will stand out, but I also know it's the only thing I have. People will surly ask about it, and I will either have to ignore them or answer them. Only time will tell.  
I am then taken to a train, alongside my district partner. I enter the train and am shown do my room by an Avox. I thank her and sit on my bed, gazing out the window, watching as District 6 slowly fades away. Say something about how it's different from her home because if her home is that small there's surely some difference.  
The sun is already sinking and I watch it. I watch as it bends, and in the moment before it brakes, it lights up in different colors. It splashes oranges, reds, and yellows, across the vast emptiness that which consumes the area between the ground and space. I watch as the colors darken, and soon turn to black as the sun falls behind the snow-covered mountains that lay far in the West. It isn't long before white lights pierce the darkness; shining through and accompanying the moon.  
This is the last thing I see before I go to sleep, and it's so beautiful. So beautiful and sad at the same time, and I think that's why it seems so beautiful. It shows how sad and amazing something can be. And it is, truly and perfectly marvelous.  
Sleep overcomes me before I have the chance to think about anything else.

**Huckleberry (Huck) Johnson (17) District 3**

Well, the Reaping is today. Another chance to be in the Hunger Games—not like I want to. No, if anything, the Hunger Games are the one thing I absolutely hate.  
The fact that the Capitol has the audacity to send children to fight until death is disgusting. The fact that the Capitol records this so millions of people can watch it is even more abominable. I do not know if it's the Hunger Games I hate, or the fact that there is such thing as the Hunger Games. Of course I watch them. I must, because—even though I hate them—I must see who dies and who ends up winning. Every death is like being stabbed in the chest, although I don't know who any of the tributes are besides the ones from my district. It doesn't matter that I didn't know them, because I know that they didn't deserve to die. Even if they were the most horrible human being alive, they don't deserve to die. Not like this, anyway. In Game that is televised to everyone in all of Panem. No one deserves to die like that.  
Last year, my best friend was in the Games. I don't think I have ever witnessed something worse in my life. It's not so much as how he died, but just the fact that he did, indeed, die.  
I hate saying it like that, 'die', it sounds so... normal and I don't want it to. That word should mean more than it does nowadays. People are dying all the time, not just because of the Games, but because of diseases and other reasons. In my district, the word has become something everyone says on a daily basis.  
I will not say my friend's name that is now deceased, because I don't think I will be able to without breaking down. My parents sometimes tell me to "get over it" and it makes me hate them even more than I already do. Just because it has been a year since his death doesn't make it any less painful when I hear his name or see his face in my mind. Every time, it's like a new wound opening up and bleeding out until there is nothing left but the faint feeling of pain.  
He lasted the first three days, and then was killed brutally by a Career. Later, that Career ended up winning. I don't know that Career's name, but I know he was from District 2. Maybe I will forgive him one day, just because wishing he died goes against everything I believe in. However, I will never forget what he did, or the pain he put me through.  
Well, now, I sound like a girl, talking about my emotions and all this. Please forgive me, I swear that I don't do this a lot. I swear that will be the last sob story for a while. Or, at least, I hope it will be just as much as you do. I don't really know how to control the things that go through my mind. Whenever I don't want to think about something, I find myself dwelling on it. It's rather annoying.  
Like now, I'm thinking about sob stories, but I won't tell them to you. I wish I could tell you that I have reasons for being the way I am. Like, that I have abusive parents, or that I have no friends, or that I am an addict, but all of those would be lies. My parents don't abuse me, although they don't necessarily enjoy me too much. I have plenty of friends, more than plenty. I am not an addict; I don't do any kinds of drugs or drink alcohol or any of that. My story is quite boring actually, and I will save you the pain of having to listen to it.  
Our school was cancelled today, so I have lots of time to think about things. I have decided, rather than telling you anything else, to go out and hang out with someone—anyone. I am outside in the woods that are up 1/4 of our district. No one ever seems to come in these woods—besides me, of course. I don't come here to be alone or any of that sappy stuff, I just come to... come. I can't think of any better way to explain it other than that.  
I finger my token, a gold-colored coin attached to a chain that hangs around my neck. I glance down at my clothing, old wrinkled jeans with holes in them rolled up to show my bare, dirty feet. My shirt is grey, covered with stains, and torn in some places. I don't bother changing, and not only because I have no nicer clothes.  
My hair is short, so I don't comb it out. I don't know any guy that combs out their hair. The thought is strange; I don't even own a comb, thank goodness. Although, I don't own that many things. I don't bother clearing the dirt from my fair skin either. It makes it look a few shades darker, and I find this amusing.  
I hop down from the branch I had been laying on, and begin my walk back through the woods. It isn't that hard to find my way, speaking of the fact that I only must follow the trail.  
Once I have reached the road that will lead me to the center of the district, I see my father and mother standing there, eyeing me. It's not so much embarrassment that I don't like walking with them as much as it is that they anger me. They do not treat me like I am their son, more like a peasant. I do not live with them, though I sleep on the coach in their house. I make sure they don't see me when I sleep, I go late at night, and leave early in the morning.  
I don't need them. No, they need me much more than I need them. When I lived with them, they would make me do things all the time; often against my things. Not just normal chores like cleaning the dishes or taking the trash out. They said I could never have friends, and that I couldn't go to school (not like I minded that part). They made me stay home all day and do work around the house, and when I didn't do it, or when I didn't finish, they would yell at me and call me a failure. That's why I 'ran away'; so I can make my own decisions; so I can live my own life.  
I walk fast, trying to avoid them, but they catch up to me. My mother says she has to leave, and she does after trying to give me a hug, which I step away from. I am then left to walk with my father.  
He doesn't talk the entire way, and I don't know if this is worse or better than him and mother screeching at me. It's a lot less quiet, but maybe I am used to their noise. All I know is that this is one of the most awkward positions I have ever been in.  
People around us are all talking and laughing, having a good time despite what they are headed to. My father clearly doesn't enjoy their joy, because in the next second, he is yelling at them to shut up. The people look shocked at his behavior, some confused, others angry. Some of them start to argue with my father, but he ignores them.  
I give them a smile, trying to apologize for me father's rude ways. I am not the nicest person in the world myself, but I'm not rude to strangers.  
The people leave, looking at me like I'm some kind of freak, and then it's just me and my father again. Anger boils inside of me at him. Not because he is rude, but because of how he treats me, and how he makes me look in front of people. Every time I look in the mirror I have to be reminded that I am related to him, because I look exactly like he did when he was my age. The same dark hair and eyes, nearly black, and same fair skin. Every time I look in the mirror, I see him their instead of me. I want to scream at him, to yell at the reflection in the mirror that is so deceiving. Every time I must remind myself that it is just a reflection.  
As we enter the center of the district, he leaves me to find my own way to the 17 year old section. I do so, after giving a young Peacekeeper a drop of my blood. There is no Dark Days video this year, and no escorts, probably the only good things about these Games.  
Our mayor walks onto the stage and taps the microphone. I cannot tell if he is mocking the escorts, or being irritating. I believe it may be the second one, because our mayor has to be the most arrogant guy I have ever met.  
He says some things about how honored he is to be part of these Hunger Games, and then he announces the girl's name. I watch a redheaded girl enter the stage from the 13 year old section. Her name, Autumn Mangione, is unfamiliar to me.  
She gives a brave smile, but it falls after half a second and tears begin to fall from her eyes. I feel bad for her, she's so young and scared. Apparently, she was chosen for her kind personality, but I'm guessing the real reason was so she could be a bloodbath tribute. I hope this girl makes it further than that, who knows; maybe she can even win these Games.  
"And now, the male tribute," the mayor says, grinning at his audience. "The male this year will be—chosen for his strength and ability to adapt—is Huckleberry Johnson." He announces.  
This doesn't surprise me, not one bit. For a split second, I feel nothing, not fear or dread; nothing. I begin the walk to the stage, and emotions start to come, slapping me in the face. It's not the emotions I thought I would feel if I were Reaped, not even close. I feel angry, angrier than I've ever been in my life. And, I'm angry at my life. I'm angry that I didn't get more out of it, and that I didn't really ever do anything worth remembering.  
I walk onto the stage and glare at the mayor, who, in return, smirks. He feels no sympathy toward me or the girl. He doesn't care that we are going to die in a matter of days, he doesn't care that people will miss us.  
I shake the girl's hand quickly, and don't wait for the escorts as I enter the Justice Building. I walk into one of the rooms and sit down, my arms folded, and glaring at nothing in particular. My friends come in; they seem sad, and they tell me good luck and give me advice. I don't listen to them, just keep glaring.  
Soon, they leave and my father enters. I don't glare at him, but I do not listen to what he has to say. Once he is done talking and is about to leave, I yell at him, "I hate you! All you've ever done is make my life hell! You and mom both."  
He turns around, but there is no emotion in his eyes. He then turns and leaves and I am left wondering why he has never cared. I wonder a lot of things, actually. I wonder why I am so angry. I wonder why I am acting so strangely. I wonder what is in store for me at the Capitol. I wonder what it's like. I wonder what the interview will be like. I wonder what my bed will look like. I wonder who I will meet. I wonder who I will become friends or enemies with. I wonder about the arena, and what would happen if I win. I wonder if people will hate me, or if they will like me. I wonder if I will get any sponsors, if I'll even last through the bloodbath.  
And I wonder.  
And wonder.  
And wonder.  
Eventually, a Peacekeeper comes in and leads me to the train that holds the other tributes.  
After district three, there is only two districts left. A Peacekeeper tells me that we will be arriving at the Capitol sometime tomorrow in the afternoon, and that we may go visit the other tributes at anytime while on the train.  
I eat dinner with Autumn, which is awkward for both of us, since neither one of us speaks. The dinner is delicious, though, different kinds of soups, salads, bread, and meats. I eat so much that I have to excuse myself to go to the restroom retch, because I just can't hold it all down. I stay in my room after that, and don't bother to get anything else to eat, though half of it's gone.  
I dress into pajamas that I find in a drawer, and tuck myself into bed. It doesn't feel right, though. The pillow is too cold and squishy. The sheets are too warm and soft.  
And it's so nice.  
A smile spreads its way across my lips as my breath slows, as well as my heartbeat. I feel so peaceful, but not safe. I do not feel any kind of security whatsoever, and I have never felt so alone in my entire life. I know there are other tributes not that far from me, and Avoxes milling all about, but the loneliness overtakes me. It's like a dark shadow coming out and blocking the light away from my view.  
_I open my eyes, but all I see is darkness. It's endless, and stretches on for miles in every direction. Suddenly, I don't understand why people are afraid of the dark. I wonder if it's because it's empty, or because they can't see. I feel drawn to the darkness. It reminds me of myself—empty and lonely. I lay in the unfamiliar bed for what seems like centuries, while I grow old and wrinkled. Ever so slowly, I begin to break. I realize that I will never again see the light. A single tear falls from the corner of my eye as the darkness which consumes me feels no longer comfortable, but threatening. The darkness has the stars and the moon to light it's way; I have nothing._

**This last bit is Huckleberry (Huck) dreaming, in case you didn't know. **  
**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I promise (hope) this story will become more interesting.  
I would like to thank JustBreathDeep for editing this chapter for me. She is going to have a story out shortly after this is published, so be sure to check it out. It's going to have the same Quarter Quell twist as this story.  
Thank you for reading, and please review. (:**


	2. In the Capitol

**Hello again, and thank you for your kind reviews.**

**Let's try to keep them kind.**

**I apologize if these chapters so far are uninteresting; honestly, I'm trying to get through them too. **

**Also, I am not very proud of this chapter, so please no hate if you dislike it as well.**

**Scout Woods (15) District 6**

Breakfast this morning is delicious.

There are so many choices. Eggs, toast, sausages, fruits, bacon, pancakes, cereal—everything you could ever desire for breakfast. It is hard to choose what to eat with so many choices, but I end up with three slices of bacon, a few eggs, a piece of toast, and pancakes, syrup and butter dribbled over the top of them. I would like to have eaten more, but I don't dare, knowing I would retch if I ate too much.

Today, we spend practically the entire day on the train. I don't know what I will do, and my district partner, Sebastian, has already set out on an adventure. He said something about going to see the different tributes, and he left an hour or so ago; I haven't seen him since.

I go to my room to change out of the white nightgown I have been wearing. I pick out some clothes—a green army jacket, white tank top, black tights, and sneakers—but decide I will take a shower first.

I turn on the water, and it's splendidly warm. I think I spend more time just standing in there, enjoying the water, than I do washing. Eventually, I do, however, wash the dirt from my skin and hair. The soap makes my skin smell like lavender, and the shampoo and conditioner makes my hair smell like night blooming jasmine.

I change into my clothes and look at my reflection in the mirror, and I realize that I have never been this clean in my life. I feel like a Capitol citizen, wearing their clothes and smelling like they must smell. My hair and skin are so pale, paler than usually without the dirt.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, and leave the washroom. I find myself sitting alone on a couch, staring out the window. It's very quiet, but not peaceful. The view outside is unfamiliar, there are so many buildings! I know we aren't at the Capitol, so this surprises me. I can faintly see people in the distance, walking. I can barely make it out, but I see their hair; mostly everyone's is blonde. I figure that this is District 1 which is the last stop.

The train begins to start up again, and almost the second after it does, Sebastian comes in. Is pale skin is clean like mine, and his longish blonde hair is combed, making him look like a Capitol citizen. He has this big, happy grin on his face, and I wonder what could possibly be so exciting. He skips over to me, grabs my upper arm, and pulls me to my feet.

"Scout, we're going to go watch the Reaping with the District 3 tributes!" He exclaims, still smiling. His green eyes are filled with joy.

I don't see what's so exciting about the District 3 tributes, or the Reaping, but I don't question as I follow him through the different rooms. We eventually end up in a room identical to ours. There are two tributes sitting on a couch watching TV, but as soon as we come in, all eyes are on us. The girl is still in her nightgown and looks around Sebastian's age. She has auburn hair, pretty hazel eyes, and pale skin as white as mine. I wonder if she is why he is so excited, but do not ask him in front of her.

The boy looks 17 or 18, and has black hair and eyes. His skin is fair and covered with cuts and bruises. His clothes aren't dirty, but look worn out and old, and he wears no shoes. I suspect that these clothes are his, and that he wore them to the Reaping.

"Scout, this is Autumn," he says, gesturing to her. She waves slightly, and smiles. "And this," he says; now pointing at the boy, "is Huckleberry." The boy grins and winks at me, but it isn't the way the boys wink at the other girls in my school. He seems sarcastic about it all; like a joke.

Sebastian and I sit down, and I somehow end up between him and Huckleberry. The Reapings begin, and I watch the District 1 tributes enter the stage, both smirking. I don't really watch District 2, and rather fascinate myself by looking out the window. I see we are passing a lake, but I don't see any animals, not even a bird.

I look back at the screen to see Autumn on the stage, crying. I turn to her now, to see her face red with embarrassment. I feel bad for her; she seems like a nice girl. Huckleberry enters the stage next, and he glares the entire time. Not necessarily at anything—or anyone—but he does glare, and for a split second I wonder why. Then, I realize that he has every reason to. He might as well be mad at the Capitol, I mean; they did practically pick him to die.

But he might not die; he might win for all I know. I don't know him, or anything about him—besides his name.

I look out the window again as two more districts pass by, and then it's time for District 6. I watch as they call my name and I enter the stage. I stand there, slightly swaying, as I stare off into the distance. It's strange seeing me and how I'm portrayed. They show a close up of my face, and there is no emotion there, which doesn't surprise me. My lips are tightly shut, and my eyes are cloudy, like I am day dreaming. Thinking back to it, I suppose I was, in a way.

Sebastian is looking at me now, not on the screen, but in real life. "How do you do that?" He asks suddenly, surprising me.

"Do what?" I question, raising an eyebrow and not liking what this is headed to.

"Act like a robot." He says with such a straight face that I grin.

"You mean like I have no emotions? I don't know how; I was just thinking while I was up there."

"Yeah, well, this morning you acted like you had no emotion, and when we came in here and sat down, the whole time you acted like you didn't feel anything."

I shrug, not realizing I did this a lot. I know I didn't smile that often, or laugh, or frown, but I never thought of what I did do.

"Maybe I don't know what I'm feeling; maybe my head hasn't quite figured it out that." I say, and then, to lighten to the mood, "at least I didn't act all scared and embarrassed like you." I smirk, and thrust my thumb at the screen.

It is a close-up of Sebastian's face, looking scared; his face bright red. I had seen it out of the corner of my eye, and had been waiting for the appropriate moment to tell him.

Sebastian turns his attention to the screen and flushes with embarrassment. Autumn giggles and elbows him in the ribs. He smiles at her, and rubs his head, even though he didn't get hit in the head.

I watch them and wonder what is going on, but before I can, bursts of laughter comes from behind the couch. It startles all of us, Autumn even screams, and we turn around to see 6 athletic-looking kids.

They stand up and walk to the back wall, facing us. The four of us stand up as well and lean against the couch, facing them. We all just stand there for a while, but eventually a boy who looks younger than the others—probably my age—snickers and shakes his head at us.

The boy looks strong; his sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, showing off his biceps. His hair and eyes are brown, like many of the District 2 citizens. His skin is tan, so I am guessing that he spends much of his time outside, probably training.

He takes a few steps forward until he is right in front of Sebastian, whose arms are crossed and eyes glaring at the older boy. The way this boy carries himself makes me believe that he is cocky. The way he is looking at Sebastian only goes further to prove my theory.

"You," he barks, jabbing a finger at Sebastian's chest, "are some cocky kid that's got no reason to be cocky 'cause you're a wimp. You think you're cool, don't you? Huh, kid? Don't you?" He laughs and then moves in front of Autumn.

"You are just some worthless girl that was chosen because they needed tributes for the Bloodbath. You're weak, ugly, and, well, you're a joke." He laughs even more at her.

Now he is standing in front of me. I am taller than both Autumn and Sebastian, and am the same height as him. I look at him eye to eye, and I know I can't be called anything worse than I have already been called. What he says won't hurt me, and there's no way that he thinks any worse of me than I do of myself.

"You are just some psycho girl that belongs in a madhouse. There's nothing really interesting about you." He snarls, looking very pleased with himself.

All I do in response is blink, which I suppose he wasn't trying for. Autumn and Sebastian had looked hurt after his insults, and I think that's what he was expecting me act like.

He searches my face, but finds nothing there. He then steps back and scans my body. I don't feel self-conscious, but I do think that it is strange and don't know why he is doing this. His friends (alliance members?) behind him are all laughing at Autumn and Sebastian, but I see them glancing over here once in a while, wondering what he is doing just like I am.

The Career boy takes a step forward, and grabs my wrist which is wrapped in the bandana. He begins to take the bandana off, and I don't really care. I don't care if he knows, or what he thinks. I don't care if everyone on this planet knew. The only reason I hide them is for my parents, who don't like looking at them.

Once the bandana is off, he scans the cuts and stares at me. His friends are back in their place behind him and our looking over his shoulder at my wrist.

The Career boy suddenly laughs and drops my wrist, throwing the bandana at me. I let it fall.

"Well, not only are you crazy, but you're suicidal too?! Why, you really are a freak!" He says between breaths and continues laughing.

Once he is done with his laughing fit, he moves on to Huckleberry who just raises his eyebrows at the boy. The Career opens his mouth to say something, but Huckleberry cuts him off.

"You make fun of kid by telling him he's cocky, when you're the arrogant one. You call a girl ugly who is already self-conscious, and then you make fun of another girl's scars who is broken inside." He murmurs, his face blank.

"You're point?" The Career says.

"I'm just excited to see what you have to say about me." He grins.

"Well, there's nothing much to say about you. You're poor, obviously," he snickers, gesturing to Huckleberry's clothes. "You live in District 3, but you've got to be one of the dumbest looking guys I've ever seen. You think you're such a hero, but you're not helping anyone."

"And you are?"

The Career looks shocked at this, and stammers a few inaudible words, but then gives up and leaves with the other Careers. I don't understand why he so suddenly leaves. It's not like what Huckleberry said was so offensive or confusing. I ponder the possibilities, but can't think of any reasonable answer.

"The Reaping is over." Sebastian mumbles and then goes to sit at the dining table with Autumn.

I begin to walk over as well, but Huckleberry says my name so I turn around. He hands me the bandana, a smile on his face. I take it and we go to sit down as well. It isn't long before Axoxes bring food and drinks out.

I turn to see Huckleberry grinning at the food, and I can't help but smile. He has one of those smiles that are contagious, and he smiles a lot. I do not only smile at his grin, though, I also smile at how naive and carefree he is.

It's nice to see that people who can still enjoy every second of life, even when they only have a few days left to live.

Unless he wins, of course.

**Huckleberry (Huck) Johnson (17) District 3 **

Dinner is rather incommodious for me. Flint an Autumn talk and laugh the whole time, acting like the events that had taken place right before never happened. Scout is quiet, and I don't think she says a word the whole time. This forces me to do the same; the only sound I make is when I chew or swallow, or the occasional sound of my fork hitting my plate.

I don't understand why the boy from 2 left. I would have guessed that he would have stayed longer with his posse; make the others feel even worse. I, for one, was not offended by his "insults". I couldn't tell at the time if Scout was offended or not—and I still don't know—but both Sebastian and Autumn looked upset.

We finish our lunch, and we are almost at the Capitol. I can see it actually, the buildings, all big and shiny, with about a million windows. They are so tall, taller than the tallest trees in District 3. They tower over the city, sending shadows across the road.

Scout and Sebastian leave soon, and only a few minutes later do we arrive in the Capitol. There are people dressed up in the brightest clothes I've ever seen waving at us. Their skin colors range from purple to grey—their hair even more so. Yet, there is something about them that doesn't feel quite right, other than the fact they look so strange.

The train goes through a dark tunnel and then we stop in what looks like a giant building. There are people all milling about caring various things. They go and come through doors and socialize every once in a while. Everyone seems in a hurry, and a few are standing by the side of the train.

The doors open, and the smell of perfume and cologne make me want to gag. A young woman with spiky green and orange hair grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards a door. I don't know if she is my stylist, or a part of my prep team, but when we reach the door, she pushes me through. She stays on the other side as she shuts it, and I hear her footsteps through the door as she walks away.

I am now facing three people. They all have different styles, but all are outrageous. I feel ostentatious, and know that I am standing in this room with them.

One of them, a lady with pin straight purple hair gestures to a table that I am supposedly suppose to lay on.

I walk to the table and lay down on it, wanting this to be over with. The three people don't waste a second, and immediately set to work, trying to make me look handsome for the Opening Ceremony. One of them pricks at my eyebrows as another powders my face like I am a girl, trying to make it paler.

The prick and prod at me for another half hour or so, and then they start with my hair and 'makeup'. One of them draws lines across my face, and then makes me remove my shirt so they can do the same to my chest and arms. One of them asks me if they can shave my head, which I quickly disagree to. Instead, she starts 'painting' lines in my hair.

Once they are done, they send me to Ottilie Wishhart, who I am guessing is my stylist. I enter another room and see the lady with the spiky hair. She lets me sit on a table as she fixes my 'makeup'. She then gives me a pair of black of black slacks and points me to another door so I can change.

When I come out, she claps in delight and hands me a pair of black dress shoes for me to change into. When I have them on, she gives me these strange blue glasses. When I put them on, everything looks blue, and it's annoying.

Ottilie turns off the lights, but something green still shines, like a nightlight. A mirror is suddenly in front of me, and I see the green glow is coming from me. The lines the lady had drawn on were green and they glowed in the dark. The blue glasses also somewhat lit up, but not very much.

Ottilie escorts me out of the room, through many halls and doors, and we finally end up at the chariots. She shows me which one is mine, and then she turns to leave. I walk over to the chariot and horse. Both are pitch black and silent.

I wait in the silence for what seems like forever until Autumn eventually shows up. Her face is identical to mine, and she wears a shimmering silver dress. We converse for a while, and then all the tributes are directed to stand in their chariots.

District 1 goes through the doors, and I'm sure the cheering causes an earthquake. I look back a couple chariots, and eventually find District 6. Scout and Sebastian are both dressed up in blue train conductor outfits, hats and all. They each where a red ascot as well, and their pale skin looks so out of place.

Our chariot starts to move, and I nearly fall off. I grip the front as we exit through the doors. Not many people cheer for us, but they do as soon as the District 4 tributes come out. After that, there is hardly any applause at all. This surprises me, since these were the people that picked the tributes in the first place.

The chariots eventually stop and we exit them, and walk over to an elevator. Autumn and I miss the first one, but are lucky enough to catch the second one with Scout and Sebastian. Autumn and him talk until we reach our floor, where Sebastian insists that we come over for dinner. Autumn smiles widely, and I absently agree. We agree that we will meet them in an hour or so after everyone has cleaned up and had a shower.

As soon as we step into our room—_rooms _more like it, or penthouse, either one would work—Avoxes quickly show us our rooms and then leave us be. I enter my bathroom and shower. The hot water feels nice, but the soap smells strange; like cologne or something. I find that so odd, that cologne would be a scent of soap.

I exit the shower and go back into my room, looking for something to wear. All of the clothes are bright and strange, but I somehow find a black shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I dress into them, and they feel so soft compared to my old rags.

They also seem very alien, and I leave the room before I can ponder about it too much. I watch TV for a while until Autumn finally comes out. She wears a black dress and about a pound of makeup. I have not the slightest idea why she is dressed so fancy, and ask her:

"Ummm, is there a reason—"

"No!" She snaps, appearing angry. "I just wanted to look nice."

I raise my eyebrows, but don't argue with her as we enter the elevator. We press the sixth floor button; red numbers appear above the doors, showing which floor we are on as we climb.

Eventually, we reach our destination and enter the room which is identical to ours. It's strange, as if we never left. The only difference is Scout and Sebastian are watching TV and Avoxes are milling about, setting up the dining table.

We go and sit on the couch with Sebastian and Scout, but Sebastian turns off the TV as soon as we do. Scout raises an eyebrow at Sebastian, and then at Autumn, and then at me.

"I guess we didn't get the memo that said there was a dress code." She tells me, and I notice that Sebastian is dressed up as well, in a white dress shirt and pants. His hair is combed back, and he smells of cologne.

Scout, on the other hand, is not dressed up. She wears dark jeans with neither socks nor shoes. Over them, she has on a grey tank top, and her white hair is still messy and tangled from the shower.

I grin at her comment and nod, looking between the two as well. It's quiet for a while, and the two kids blush, but Sebastian eventually breaks the silence.

"Say, who wants to play a game?" He asks no one in particular.

Autumn giggles and says yes, while Scout says no, and I say nothing. I guess Sebastian takes this as a yes, so he makes us all sit on the ground in a circle.

"What, are we playing duck duck goose?" I question, confused as the girls must be.

"N-o-o-o-o..." Sebastian smiles and chuckles.

"What _are_ we playing?" Autumn asks, still smiling.

Since Autumn asks, Sebastian's tells us, "two truths and a lie!" He seems excited and so does Autumn.

I groan loudly, and Scout just sits there staring at Sebastian, but not looking very amused.

"The last time I played that, I was 5, and it was stupid then," I complain.

Sebastian glares at Scout and I, and hisses "fine, then you don't have to play, go watch TV."

_You don't have to ask me twice, _I think and sit back on the couch next to Scout. We watch a few shows as their game progresses and I start to watch.

"Okay..." Sebastian says, "which one is a lie?"

"That you have three brothers!" Autumn exclaims and he nods.

"Okay, my turn. Uh, one, I can't sing. Two, I have four cats. Three...uh... I–I can juggle."

"The third one."

"Nope, it's the first one, I can't sing."

"You can juggle?"

"Yeah"

The two of them go to the dining table and pick up three oranges. I nudge Scout in the ribs and point at Sebastian and Autumn. We watch as Autumn begins to juggle, and she isn't all that bad. She walks over so she is standing in front of us and continues on juggling. She suddenly drops one, then another, and then one hits a picture hanging on a wall. Autumn cries out and tries to grab it, but it falls to the ground and shatters. An Avox comes out and starts cleaning it up, trying to reassure Autumn without words that it's alright.

I know she must feel terrible, but I find it funny and I laugh. Autumn isn't too impressed and she starts to cry. This is so bizarre, and I don't understand. I hadn't said nor done anything mean, had I? Was laughing at her really all that bad? I don't care when people laugh at me, but maybe it's different with girls.

Sebastian tried to comfort her, and she stops crying right before dinner is served. Her makeup is smeared and running down her face, but no one says anything. Sebastian and her head to the table and sit down, Scout and I following right behind. We end up sitting next to each other, and she watches Autumn for a moment.

"Autumn, why did you cry?" Scout asks her, and Autumn seems shocked at the question. She replays simply with:

"Because I'm sad."

"Why?"

"Because I feel bad for breaking the picture and because Huckleberry laughed at me."

"It was an accident, and I don't think he was trying to be rude."

Autumn looks at me, and I nod. She then smiles and giggles, and tells Scout that she was just being weird.

I shake my head and roll my eyes. Autumn obviously got the wrong impression. And now she was acting gaily. Her mood swings so much that I'm beginning to believe that she is bipolar. Not really, of course. It was a joke. Don't freak out.

Scout and I eat a delicious dinner—meat, potatoes, corn, bread, and soup—in silence again. After we are finished, dessert is brought out. I don't think I've ever seen so many kinds of pie before, or that I ever will again.

**(A/N: Sorry if the part below seems irrelevant and cheesy, but... It's pi day! 3-14. That's when I'm writing this. (: for school, we had to remember at least 25 numbers of pi. I know 56. Here you go: 3.1415926535897932384626433832 7950288419716939937510582097 ... And I know those are right, and no I didn't look at anything.)**

Chocolate, cherry, coconut cream, blackberry, pumpkin, apple, pecan, lemon meringue, custard, key lime, chocolate butterscotch, and huckleberry. I've never had huckleberry pie before, but since it's my namesake, I know I must have it. I take the whole pie, and put it in front of me, digging in. I see the others have done the same: Sebastian took the lemon meringue, Autumn took the coconut cream, and Scout took the chocolate butterscotch.

I see Scout smiling out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to her, raising an eyebrow. She snickers a little and says:

"One, you have pie all over your face–" I quickly wipe the pie that apparently is 'all over my face', off "–and two, you're eating huckleberry pie."

I know what she means, and I smile. A burst of laughter from the other side of the table makes us both jump and we look over to see that Autumn has whipped cream all over her face.

I want to talk to Scout more, but she is already stuffing her face with more pie. She eats fast, and a lot, and I wonder how much such a small girl could hold down. I start attacking my pie, too, savoring every bite. We don't get such delicacies in District 3. I'm sure my friends would be so jealous, if they were to look at me now. I wonder if this is being televised, and I start to grin as I eat.

I don't know how, but I finish the entire pie. I feel sick afterwards, but manage to hold it down—though; I have to hold my stomach for awhile. Scout too, looks sick. She doesn't excuse herself either, so we both just sit there in pain.

Without realizing it, we start a conversation... About our names.

"Oh, you're making fun of _my _name? You'rename's Scout." I argue.

"Yes, but at least I'm not named after a _berry_." She counters, and laughs.

It's a pleasant sound, "well, I suppose you're right. And, for the record I happen to like your name, thank you very much." I grin.

She grins back, "good, but I still am not a fan of yours. Though, I suppose it's not _terrible_. How about I call you something? What about Huck?"

I grin, and nod; agreeing. Huck seems like a normal-sounding name. Kind of sounds like Chuck, you know?

"Where's Sebastian and Autumn?" Scout suddenly asks, and I turn to see that they are no longer in their chairs across from us.

We get up and start walking around. I suggest calling their names, but Scout tells me that that's ridiculous because "they aren't dogs" and that "they can't be that far away".

I see that the door is open a crack leading to what I guess is Sebastian's room. I don't know if we should go in or not, but Scout says we should. We enter the room to see Autumn and Sebastian laughing and spraying whipped cream in each others' faces.

I tell Autumn that we should get back since it's getting late and there's training tomorrow. She tries to argue, but I stop her. Sebastian than tries to argue, but Scout stops him. Autumn finally agrees and we leave.

**...**

As I try to fall asleep, I can't. It's impossible. Tomorrow is training. The Careers will be there. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like.

**Alaska (Al) Twain (16) District 2**

"_The little girl_

_Just could not sleep_

_Because her thoughts_

_Were way too deep_

_Her mind had gone_

_Out for a stroll_

_And fallen down_

_A rabbit hole._

The end."

**(A/N: I DO NOT own this. I found a picture on tumblr with the quote. I don't know what it's from, but it is NOT mine.) **

That's what my mom used to sing to me. What a kind mother; reminding me of my schizophrenia. Thanks mom, love you too.

_**NEW CHARACTER ALERT! SHE'S GOING TO BE MAIN. **_

**Whenever I have the writing in italics, the person is either thinking, daydreaming, dreaming, singing, or hallucinating. **

**3.1415926535897932384626433832 7950419716939937510582097**

**Review. Follow. Favorite.**

**NOTE: I'VE CHANGED ELIZABETH'S NAME TO ALASKA. **


End file.
